Chapter 7: One Second
Chen Dongyang’s heart pounded as he stared at the ceiling, his body trembling from the lingering pain.
The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of the digital clock.
22:31:07.
He’d done it.
He’d turned back time—one measly second—but the cost was brutal.
His head still throbbed, like someone had driven a spike through it.
He clutched the edge of his desk, his knuckles white, trying to steady his breathing.
‘So this is the price,’ he thought, Old Chen’s words echoing in his mind.
Entropy reduction. A miracle.
And it had nearly torn him apart.
He glanced at the ballpoint pen, sitting innocently on the corner of his desk.
It was proof—proof that he wasn’t crazy, that the loops weren’t a dream.
But the realization brought no comfort.
If anything, it deepened the mystery.
Why him? Why now?
And what did it have to do with Jiang Yuxin?
The next morning, Chen Dongyang woke with a dull ache in his temples.
He dragged himself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.
The mirror showed a haggard version of himself—dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale.
He looked like he’d aged a year overnight.
Breakfast was quiet, his parents already gone for the day.
He ate a piece of toast, barely tasting it, his mind replaying the moment the pen had returned to the desk.
‘I can control it,’ he thought, a spark of determination flickering. ‘Maybe not well, but it’s something.’
He grabbed his bag, the weight of the self-criticism and Jiang Yuxin’s lunch order heavy in his mind.
Today’s text: [Salmon bowl from Koi Kitchen. No onions. Matcha latte, hot.]
He groaned, checking his wallet.
At this rate, he’d be broke by next week.
At school, Class 204 buzzed with the usual chatter, but Chen Dongyang felt detached, like he was watching it all through a fog.
Jiang Yuxin was in her usual spot by the window, her posture perfect, her gaze fixed outside.
He avoided looking at her, afraid she’d sense his unease.
The morning classes dragged, his thoughts a tangle of time loops, pain, and her unreadable eyes.
When the lunch bell rang, he bolted out, heading to Koi Kitchen.
The restaurant was busy, the air thick with the smell of grilled fish and soy sauce.
He handed over his cash, wincing at the dwindling bills, and hurried back to school with the order.
On the rooftop, Jiang Yuxin was waiting, sitting on her white towel, her schoolbag neatly placed beside her.
She took the salmon bowl, inspecting it with her usual scrutiny.
“No onions?” she asked, her voice calm but probing.
“None,” he said, setting the matcha latte beside her.
She nodded, opening the bowl and taking a small bite.
Chen Dongyang sat across from her, his own lunch a cheap bread roll from the school store.
She glanced at it, her eyebrow twitching slightly.
“You’re eating like a beggar,” she said, her tone half-teasing, half-disapproving.
He shrugged, taking a bite.
“It’s food. It works.”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes lingered on him, sharp and searching.
“You look terrible,” she said suddenly. “Didn’t sleep?”
He froze, his bread roll halfway to his mouth.
“Just… stayed up late,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
She leaned forward, her voice dropping.
“Another ‘premonition’ keeping you up?”
His heart skipped.
She was too good at this, picking at his defenses like a surgeon with a scalpel.
“No,” he said, forcing a grin. “Just homework.”
Her lips curved into that faint, predatory smile.
“Liar,” she said softly, but she didn’t push.
They ate in silence, the rooftop’s breeze carrying the faint scent of her matcha latte.
Chen Dongyang’s mind raced.
He’d turned back time last night, but it had nearly broken him.
Could he do it again?
And if he did, could he go back far enough to figure out why the loops had started?
Why Jiang Yuxin was at the center?
After lunch, Jiang Yuxin stood, brushing invisible dust from her uniform.
“Tomorrow,” she said, her voice firm. “Same time. Don’t mess it up.”
He nodded, watching as she walked away, her figure graceful but untouchable.
As the rooftop door closed behind her, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
She was dangerous, but she was also his only lead.
If he could control the time reversal, maybe he could uncover the truth.
That evening, Chen Dongyang sat at his desk, the digital clock ticking relentlessly.
He stared at the same ballpoint pen, his heart pounding.
‘One more try,’ he thought, clenching his fists.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the memory of the loops—the dizziness, the collapse of the world, Jiang Yuxin’s falling figure.
He pushed, willing time to bend, to reverse.
A sharp pain stabbed through his skull, and he gasped, gripping the desk.
The room spun, his vision blurring.
“Come on,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Move!”
The pain intensified, like a vice squeezing his brain.
He saw flashes—Jiang Yuxin on the rooftop, her eyes wide with shock, the pen falling, the clock ticking backward.
Then, darkness.
When he opened his eyes, he was slumped in his chair, sweat soaking his shirt.
The clock read: 22:30:58.
He’d done it again.
Eight seconds.
He laughed, a shaky, desperate sound, despite the throbbing in his head.
But the pain was worse this time, lingering like a bruise.
He couldn’t keep doing this.
Not without understanding the cost.
*
Later, as he lay in bed, Chen Dongyang stared at the ceiling, his thoughts a jumbled mess.
Jiang Yuxin wasn’t the only one with a power.
He had one too.
But unlike hers, his felt like a curse.
He thought of her sharing the lunch, her sharp words softened by that small act of kindness.
She was a mystery, a contradiction.
And he was tied to her, whether he liked it or not.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll find out more.”
He closed his eyes, the image of her face lingering.
Not falling, not dying.
Just watching him, waiting for his next move.